Leftover pasta is a constant problem in my kitchen. Since
I'm usually cooking for two, I tend to make about 3/4 of a box at a time. This
leaves me with small amounts of a variety of different pasta shapes.

While it might seem like these spare noodles might end up
going to waste, there are a variety of uses for them.

1. Cook them together- If the shapes have similar
cooking times boil them all together. If the cooking times vary, add them to
the pot of water at the appropriate times for each one.

2. Make crafts with kids- String tube shapes on
thread or twine to make necklaces and bracelets, or glue them onto picture
frames and paint them to showcase your favorite photos.

3. Stop salt
from clumping- Crush the pasta into small pieces and add them into your salt
shaker. The pasta will help break up the salt, as rice does, and keeps it
flowing smoothly.

4. Perk up your soup- Noodles are a great addition
to a wide variety of soups and stews, and the recipes need much less pasta than
noodle dishes.

5. Create a centerpiece- Mix the pastas together in
a large bag and pour them into a decorative vase or a mason jar. Stick some
dried flowers in and you've got a creative and unique table decoration that
will last for months.

These are among the many things that got called iconic somewhere---online, in the press, on QVC, where just about everything is iconic--this past year: Jessica Simpson; Charles in Charge; s'mores; Dior mascara; Air Jordan sneakers; a photo booth; Regis Philbin; Hefty Bags; Lustra Knit petite pull-ons ankle pants(?); air purifier; a Rachel Zoe faux fur vest. Did I mention Jessica Simpson? None of these things are all that iconic, except of course for the Lustra Knit pull-ons, and the redundant word itself (which I'm guilty too of slovenly overusing) should be retired. An icon needs years to assert itself, to prove its cultural worth and emerge as something emblematic.

Actually it's the s'mores, a little culinary epiphany, that may come closest to being an icon and before I abandon the word altogether, at least for myself, I'd like to wring it out a few more times. I'm not sure what food felt iconic to you recently (feel free to purge) but for me the list is short. As it should be. And none of the list really has anything to do with the past year (which is when I happened to eat these dishes, again). It has more to do with the coming year, when these ageless bites will serve as my reference points. The puny list includes:

--The sticky toffee pudding at The Fountain Restaurant at Fortnum and Mason in London which doesn't just help reclaim every underrated British pudding, among the best (and despite that leaden name among the lightest when done right) desserts in the world. It also embodies a whole lost culture: the universe of puddings, an entire cosmology of puds, that seem grounded in a comforting, Dickensian Englandia of nurseries, mums, governesses, private schools; the perfection of an Eton Mess; Mrs. Minniver; Noel Coward; tweeds; the Mitford sisters; Anglophiles; P.G. Wodehouse.

I've both overcome and exploited many things from my childhood, but walking past this fruit display over in Flushing the other weekend reminded me I do have my limits: Persimmons.

My dad was from Oklahoma and loved those puckery suckers, but (probably not surprisingly) he never produced one fruit fit to persuade his kids they were fruit fit to eat. I keep up with food news and know there are different varieties, different experiences. But even with a nearly half-block-long display, I managed to keep my wallet in my pocket. Persimmons are so dicey their image should roll up instead of cherries in slot machines.

But, as the photo indicates, persimmons are not a single-splendored thing. Are they or are they not worth another try?

What does it mean to be a chef? The word's meaning in contemporary terms is in itself a bit murky in meaning. Webster defines the word chef as "a skilled cook who manages a kitchen (as of a restaurant)", derived from the French chef de cuisine or "chief of the kitchen".

From here, one can look at what the contemporary use of the French word Chef de Cuisine means, namely the individual who actually runs the day to day operations of a kitchen, while whomever else that has been deemed Executive Chef does something else.

Today, one sees chefs testifying before Congress regarding regulation on food, proselytizing one country or another's culinary heritage on television, foraging for never heard of before herbs in semi forested areas of the suburbs of cities, growing their own vegetables in picture perfect culinary gardens, and (ahem) writing food blogs.

At first, there was chef as the lead cook of a brigade. Now, there is chef as cook, restaurateur, businessman, celebrity, lobbyist, forager, farmer, writer, self promoter.

The life of a cook was attractive to me first as a lifestyle, before the cooking itself became the reason that I work as a cook. Wary of mainstream society and culture in my early teens, I became increasingly interested in spending my time away from school and conventional social activities.

When your get up and go has just got up and went, what foods do you eat for energy? For me the ideal energy meal is an old-fashioned PB&J with carrots or pretzels and a cold glass of orange juice. The combination of protein, carbs, and school-lunch nostalgia gives me a satisfying kickstart, and often carries me through the afternoon without another energy-fortifying snack.

What do you eat for a little bit more zoom-zoom? And when do you usually need to eat it?

The other day I was doing my daily comb through my Facebook newsfeed when my friend shared the above snapshot from her mid-winter cleaning session. It's a box of Betty Crocker angel food cake mix, with an expiration date of May 31, 1991.

The cake mix expired 22 years ago. Twenty-two years. That's three years before Justin Beiber was even born. As shocked as I was at the ancient date on the box, I knew there was no way I could throw stones given the current condiment situtation in my refrigerator. I have almost weekly discussions with myself in which I justify the "freshness" of that old bottle of Dijon or jar of sweet pickles, both of which are etched with dates signaling their contents are days, months, or (gulp) years past their prime. "Ketchup can't expire," I state in defiance.

I know I'm not alone in my blatant disregard of certain foods taking shelter in my fridge and pantry well beyond their recommended stay. And as it turns out, I may not be entirely in the wrong. According to a recent segment on NPR, we may have fewer reasons to fear the expiration dates on some foods. "Some" being the key word there. Of course there's no arguing over whether to obey or ignore expiration dates when it comes to foods such as meat, fish, cheese, and produce, just to name a few.

But according to John Ruff, president of the Institute of Food Technologists in Chicago, food freshness is mostly a question of smell. Expiration dates are posted on food items as suggested "sell by" dates intended to protect the reputation of the good. There is no federal law that requires companies to date their food--the one exception being infant formula--but a majority of companies do timestamp their products as a way to suggest the latest point at which the food can be enjoyed at its highest quality.

What's your take on food expiration dates? Do you obey or ignore them?

Those mega-superstores offering towering stacks of noodles and humongous buckets o' sauce make it oh-so-tempting to stock up.

Then you get home and wonder why you thought you'd ever be able to eat five bushels of beans and a case of lettuce by next week.

If you're a good planner and keep track of what's on your pantry shelves, no doubt bulk buying can pay off. But it's easy to overspend and find yourself with more than you can -- or want to -- eat.

My family's debating whether to take out a membership to a big-box store after a year off. What do you think? Is it the best way to save on grocery spending, or a recipe for overbuying and waste? Can you get better deals watching for supermarket sales and stocking up on staples then?

Fellow fans, Downton Abbey's Season Three premiere is finally here (this Sunday at 9 p.m.) and if you're like me, you're having a few friends over to celebrate and watch the continuing saga of the Grantham household. To help inspire you, we've put together a Downton Abbey party menu that mixes upstairs with downstairs, plus some setting, invite, and mood ideas. We think even Mr. Carson would approve.

Something unexpected has happened to me. The transformation occurred ever so slowly over the past couple of years, but by the time I fully understood what had taken place, I was already too far gone. I had become...a restaurant regular. This development may not raise an eyebrow among those of you who have always been so inclined, but for me--someone who has typically been energized by the constant search for new and exciting (and often affordable) foods in my New York neighborhood and anywhere else I go, who used to cringe at the idea of anything in the way of food routine--it's nothing short of shocking. When an unassuming, reasonably priced French bistro opened up just down the block from me, I had no idea it was going to become a second dining room for my husband, our toddler daughter, and me.

From the first visit, we found the food--though nothing revelatory--to be delicious, consistently satisfying, and well worth the occasional splurge. The head waiter, J., was always warm and accommodating to us, particularly to our daughter, without being intrusive. We soon started to indulge our cravings for the Boeuf Bourguignon, French onion soup, and the surprisingly addictive tomato, feta, and avocado salad on a monthly basis. When we came upon the idea--a brilliant one, we thought!--of having dinner at home and treating ourselves to dessert and wine at our French local, our monthly visits turned into biweekly ones. Who needs novelty when you can have Sancerre and profiteroles--and crayons? And it certainly didn't hurt that we started to receive complimentary desserts and on-the-house pours, courtesy of J...

Are you a restaurant regular? Tell us about your experiences at your favorite locals. We'd love to hear details about the places and people that keep you coming back, and how you tip the folks that treat you so well.

Sure, the idea of eating more to lose weight might sound like a bunch of baloney, but many experts agree that eating more in the morning can indeed help you to consume fewer calories later in the day. For starters, when you eat a wholesome breakfast with plenty of protein and fiber, you have a much better chance of staying satisfied than if you skimp in the morning, and that means you'll be lest likely to grab a sugary muffin mid-morning or go for the cheeseburger and fries at lunch. Plus, breakfast boosts your metabolism and gives you the fuel you need for exercise, so you're more likely to stick to your workout routine if you're well fed. Kathleen Zelman, RD, who I interviewed for the first in Epicurious' series of Doable Challenges: Get a Healthy Breakfast Boost, says that she and other nutritionists recommend eating up to a third of your daily calories at your first meal of the day. "So don't be afraid of breakfast," Zelman says.

Of course, if you're trying to lose weight you'll need to trim your overall number of calories and/or burn additional calories through exercise, but consider slashing later in the day rather than at breakfast. In my own recent highly unscientific experiment with the big breakfast diet, I was pleasantly surprised to discover I had actually dropped a pound or two after several weeks of eating larger than normal (but mostly healthy) breakfasts while traveling overseas.

Have you tried eating more in the morning? How about giving it a shot and weighing in here in the comments section? You'll find lots of healthy recipes in the Doable Challenges breakfast feature.